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Town, 3 acts, 2)4 hrs. (25c) 5 3 




































































THE GOOSE GREEK LINE 


A COMEDY IN TWO ACTS 


BY 

CARABEL LEWIS HUNGER 

AUTHOR OF 

“Just Like a Woman." 



CHICAGO 

T. S. DENISON & COMPANY 
Publishers 


THE GOOSE CREEK LINE 


CHARACTERS. 


Frederick Fielding. 

. Putting in the Line. In Love with Thankful 

Daniel Dutton ... Wealthy Farmer. Largest Stockholder 

Reuben Rogers. Fine Young Farmer, in Love with Marjorie 

Marjorie Dutton. 

....Daniel’s Daughter. Always Interrupting her Pa 

Mary Ann Dutton . 

. Daniel's Wife. Very Kind but a Scold 

Miss Thankful Thelander. 

. School Teacher, Boards with the Duttons 

Miss Caroline Fielding.. 


. Frederick’s Sister, a Matchmaker 

Mrs. Minerva Battles. 

. A Widozv Who Gossips and Keeps Turkeys 

Little Wimpie Wiggins . A Homeless 

Child. Very Precocious. Lives with Mrs. Battles 
Mrs. Smith. 


Mrs. Woodward. 

Mrs. Drake. 

Mrs. Allen. 


Neighbors Who Attend Social Circle 


Place— Goose Creek Hollow. 


Act I. 
Act II. 


Time of Pt avtm, " t Hour. 

I jot y B 0 04? 7 **' 

Living roo.xi ui trie Hutton home. 

Living room of Mrs. Battles a few days later. 


COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY EBEN H. NORRIS. I 

Sta.D 45202 % 


OCT 18 1916 

n/^> 






























THE GOOSE CREEK LINE. 


3 


COSTUMES AND CHARACTERISTICS. 

Frederick —Well dressed. Business suit, neat and up to 
date. 

Daniel— For Act I: Wears overalls, patched and rather 
short, blue and white checked shirt, red handkerchief 'tied 
about neck, heavy shoes, torn hat. For Act II: Good busi¬ 
ness suit with rather large derby hat. Wears hat all the 
time. 

Marjorie Dutton— Act I: Pretty house dress, rather 
short and slightly low neck, very dainty white apron, hair 
in braid with white ribbon bow, white silk stockings and 
pumps, gold chain and pendant. Has dark checked ap-ron 
to put on when required. Act II: Any pretty afternoon 
costume, dark spectacles. Should look, at all times, as win¬ 
some and attractive as possible. 

Mary Ann Dutton— Short gingham dress, very full 
skirt starched very stiff, low shoes, white stockings, large 
gingham apron with bib, hair combed back very tight, 
done up in outstanding knob, wears spectacles on top of 
head when not in use. For Act II: Dark skirt and coat 
and sunbonnet. 

Reuben Rogers —Act I : Blue negligee shirt, neck turned 
in, sleeves rolled up to elbows, old shoes, old straw hat with 
hole in crown. Act II: Neatly dressed, carries leather bag 
and umbrella. 

Mrs. Battles— Act I: Dark dress, gingham apron and 
sunbonnet. Act II: Light house dress, large white apron 
and white collar. 

Wimpie Wiggins —Barefooted or very poor shoes and 
stockings, very short, faded dress, patched and torn. Wim- 
'pie should not be over eight years old and must be a child 
who is not afraid and who will speak very loudly and in a 
pert manner. 

Thankful Thelander and Caroline Fielding —Well 
but not elaborately dressed. No wraps. 



4 


THE GOOSE CREEK LINE- 


Mrs. Smith, Mrs. Woodward, Mrs. Drake and Mrs. 
Allen —Well dressed farm women and wearing coats and 
hats. Each carries some sort of handy work bag. 


PROPERTIES. 

Dark apron, plate of candy and dark glasses for Marjorie. 
Piece of fancy work for Thankful. Leather bag and um¬ 
brella for Reuben. Needlework and crochet work for Mrs. 
Smith, Mrs. Woodward, Mrs. Drake and Mrs. Allen. Tele¬ 
phone and telephone directory. 


STAGE DIRECTIONS. 

R ., means right of stage ; C., center; R. C., right center; 
L., left; D., door, etc.; upstage, away from footlights ; down¬ 
stage, near footlights. The actor is supposed to be facing 
the audience. 




THE GOOSE CREEK LINE 


Act I. 

Scene: Living room in Daniel Dutton's farm house. 
Center table with oil lamp on red mat, photograph album 
and conch shell. Couch covered until old blue coverlid or 
patchwork quilt. A piano if possible. One rocking chair 
until pieced cushion cover. Clock with almanac hung 
near by. Several plain chairs. Telephone on wall, directory 
hanging near by. Doors R. and L. Also C. if desired. En¬ 
trances may be arranged to suit stage convenience. 

At rise, Thankful is discovered seated in rocker, sewing 
on a piece of embroidery. 

Enter Caroline. 

Thankful. Good morning, Miss Fielding. Why are 
you looking so sober? Sit down, do, and see my center- 
piece. I shall have it done by night if I keep busy. 

Caroline. It is very handsome, but I thought you would 
be at school. 

Thankful. They are putting a new floor in the school- 
house, so there is no school for a few days. But what is 
the matter? You look despondent. 

Caroline. I am feeling despondent. Mrs. Dutton says 
that Frederick and I must find a new boarding place, and 
just as everything was going so nicely. 

Thankful. So nicely. What do you mean? No doubt 
your brother could look after the completion of the line as 
well elsewhere as here. 

Caroline. I am not thinking of the completion of the 
line. I am thinking of dear Frederick’s personal affairs. 
My brother finds this place very attractive. 

Thankful. Indeed. Well, I have to leave also. I am 
going to board with, the Widow Battles. No doubt she 
would take you, too. Mrs. Dutton expects thrashers, and 

5 



6 


THE GOOSE CREEK LINE. 


she can’t find room for us all. How soon will the line be 
finished ? 

Caroline. The instruments are nearly all in. They are 
putting in the switchboards this morning and we may get 
a call here at any time. ( Looks at telephone.) This has 
been such an experience, my staying here. I didn’t suppose 
there was such a back-woodsy place left in the United States 
till we came down here. 

Thankful. Well, I think their old-fashioned ways are 
perfectly delightful. I just love to hear Mrs. Dutton tell 
what we are going to have for dinner. Mr. and Mrs. 
Dutton both seem just like people out of a book, so simple 
and so kind. No one would dream that they were wealthy. 

Caroline. Wealthy! I must tell my brother. Of course 
you have noticed his interest in Marjorie. 

Thankful. Marjorie! Why she is only seventeen years 
old, and young Mr. Rogers is very attentive to her. 

Caroline. What, Reuben? Marjorie would look higher 
than that country clodhopper. 

Thankful. Reuben is a bright, shrewd young man. He 
has been to Agricultural School and he has a fine large farm 
of his own. 

Caroline. Well, just the same I call him a great blun¬ 
derbuss. (Rises.) I will find my brother and tell him what 
you said about Mr. Dutton being a rich man. (Exit.) 

Thankful. Goodness, what a fortune hunter. And I 
have been foolish enough, to think that Mr. Fielding was 
interested in me. 

Mrs. Dutton (offstage). Daniel! Daniel! 

Enter Mrs. Dutton, who rims to center of stage and 
then returns to door. 

Mrs. Dutton (calls from door). Daniel! Daniel! Dan 
Dutton! You mozy along in here. (Returns and addresses 
Thankful.) I never in all this living world saw a man 
who knew so little as Dan Dutton. If he was a child I 
would larrup him good. He ought to be walloped. 

Thankful. What has he done now? 

Mrs. Dutton. Done? He ain’t done nothing. I’ve made 


THE GOOSE CREEK LINE. 


7 


sjgns to him ( makes beckoning sign with finger), I’ve wonk 
at him, and the old simpleton just simply won’t take the 
hint. 

Thankful. But why this extreme anxiety to get Mr. 
Dutton into the house? 

Mrs. Dutton. Reuben is out in the garden with Mar¬ 
jorie, and they want to talk a little as young folks will. 

Thankful. Yes. 

Mrs. Dutton. And what do you think ? Daniel won’t 
let Reuben get a word in edgeways. He stands with his 
hand on Reuben’s shoulder and a-asting him how many 
bushels of oats to the acre his piece above the medder was 
likely to go, and when Reuben spoke to Marjorie about go¬ 
ing for a walk in the orchard, Daniel said he would go with 
Reuben and git him a basket of greasy pippins, and he even 
told Marjorie to go in the house and rid up the room. What 
do you think of that? 

Thankful. Well, forever more. 

Mrs. Dutton ( running to door). I’ll see if I can’t git 
that man in here. Daniel! Daniel! Dan Dutton, you come 
right straight in here. The cat is in a fit! 

Enter Daniel, Reuben and Marjorie, on a run. All 
hunt for the cat. Mrs. Dutton retreats to back of stage in 
disgust. Thankful laughs. 

Daniel. Where is she? Where is the critter? Prob’bly 
she’s got the hydrophobus. Mary Ann, you run and git my 
revolver. It’s upstairs in an old stocking, between the 
springs and mattress on the high-post bed. 

Marjorie. No, no! Daddy! I won’t have my cat shot. 
(Marjorie and Reuben search.) Where is she, ma? 

Daniel. Mary Ann, where is she, and how was she 
took ? 

Reuben. She seems to have gone—vanished in thin air. 
(Exit Mrs. Dutton.) 

Daniel ( still searching). I thought the cat acted kinder 
pindling this morning. She only et two sassers of milk. 
Where is she? 


THE GOOSE CREEK LINE. 


Mrs. Dutton (comes to door). Come into the kitchen, 
Daniel, and I’ll tell you where the cat is. 

Daniel. You’ve got me in here, and now you want to 
git me out. I never seen such a womern. I shan’t go a 
step. (Mrs. Dutton beckons and leaves doorzvay.) 

Marjorie (gets down and looks under Thankful’s 
chair) Oh, where is my poor little kitten? 

Thankful. I wouldn’t worry about the cat if I were 
you, Marjorie. No doubt she has recovered. 

Mrs. Dutton (off stage). Daniel! Daniel! 

Daniel. Just hear that womern yell. Marjorie, go and 
see what your ma wants. I expect any minute this line will 
be done, and if anyone should foam in here I want to be on 
the spot. 

Marjorie. You don’t mean foam, daddie. You mean 
phone. (Spells.) P-h-o-n-e, phone. (Taps Daniel on the 
arm at each letter.) 

Mrs. Dutton (off stage). Daniel! Daniel! 

Daniel. Just hear her go on. Anyone would think the 
house was on fire. 

Mrs. Dutton (in doorzvay). Daniel, the chimbly is burn¬ 
ing out! 

Daniel. Let her burn, mother. 

Enter Mrs. Dutton, seizes Daniel by the arm and runs 
off stage , pulling him zvith her. Thankful retires to chair 
at side of stage and resumes sewing. Marjorie and Reu¬ 
ben occupy center front, standing. 

Reuben. I must be going if I am to get into town before 
the butcher goes to dinner. 

Marjorie. Are you going into town in that hat? 

Reuben (removes hat and runs hand out through hole 
in crozzm). What is the matter with this hat? It’s cool, and 
it’s paid for. 

Marjorie. It looks as if it had been paid for ages ago. 
You see I have become so used to seeing Mr. Fielding well 
dressed all the time, that it looks queer to see you going 
into town in those old clothes. Mr. Fielding noticed you 
at the Farmers’ Institute sitting up front in your old coat 


THE GOOSE CREEK LINE. 


9 


and no collar, and he said that you were rightly named, 
especially the Reuben part. And I was so mortified at you r 
familiarity. 

Reuben. Familiarity? What did I do? 

Marjorie. Didn’t you stop and pull my ear and say, 
“Hello, Muggins,” in an awful whisper? I was so mortified. 
Every one looked around and I thought I should sink right 
through the floor. 

Reuben. Well, I came into town after some butter color 
and a whetstone. I had my old duds on because I didn’t 
know about the Institute ’til I got down there. I went up 
into the hall just to see you, and there you sat between Mr. 
Fielding and his silly sister. I was a good mind to take him 
out and throw him into Goose Creek. I wish I had; the 
blasted old popinjay! 

Marjorie. Oh, Reuben! I didn’t think you would swear 
in my presence. 

Reuben. Popinjay isn’t swearing. 

Marjorie. But blasted is. 

Thankful. Come, come, children; don’t quarrel. Is 
the line finished up your way, Reuben ? 

Reuben. All done and named. 

Thankful. Fine. What have they named it? 

Reuben. The Goose Creek Line. 

Marjorie. Horrors! The Goose Creek Line ? I wanted 
it called the Forest Glen Line, or the Melody Lane Line, 
or the Fern Avenue Line. Who suggested such an atrocious 
name as Goose Creek Line? 

Reuben. I did. I let them cut the poles for the whole 
line in my swamp free, and they said I might name the line. 
It follows Goose Creek right up the valley, so I called it the 
Goose Creek Line. I thought that the name ought to mean 
something. 

Marjorie. Forest Glen would mean something. The 
valley is a glen, isn’t it? And it leads through a forest? 

Reuben. Yes. Four trees on one side and three on the 
other, to say nothing of the old tamarack by the graveyard, 
and the crab apple bush at Apple Sass Crossing. 


10 


THE GOOSE CREEK LINE. 


Marjorie. Oh, Reuben, don’t say apple sass. 

Reuben. Don’t blame me. I didn’t name it. My mother 
said that they called it Apple Sass Crossing because of the 
old tavern which used to stand at the forks of the road. It 
seems they used to dish up apple sass with everything. 

Marjorie. Dish up. Why can't you say served? Now 
why can’t you call the line Melody Lane Line? {Puts hand 
on Reuben’s arm, looks at him coaxingly.) Didn’t you 
hear a chorus of bird melody when you drove through there 
this morning? 

Reuben. No, honestly I didn’t; but I brought in two 
veal calves and they blatted all the way down, and I had a 
log chain in the wagon, and that joined in the chorus, and 
that was all the melody I heard. 

Marjorie. But there are ferns, Reuben. You know 
there are ferns. It will spoil all my pleasure if they call it 
Goose Creek Line. {Removes hand from arm.) 

Reuben. Yes, I know, Marjorie, there is a clump of 
brakes on Sassafras Knoll; but it is too late to change. 
Goose Creek Line is printed in the franchise and the direc¬ 
tories are ready to deliver. 

Enter Daniel and Mrs. Dutton, Caroline and Fred¬ 
erick Fielding. Caroline and Frederick say “good morn¬ 
ing ” to Reuben, zvho responds, and Frederick shakes hands 
with Thankful. Frederick does not wear hat as he is sup¬ 
posed to come from his room in the house. 

Frederick. Congratulate me, Miss Schoolma’am. The 
line will soon be done. Don’t you want a phone put into the 
schoolhouse so you may call in the board of education in 
case the big boys get unruly? 

Thankful. Oh, no; thank you. My boys are all good, 
and one trustee is all we can boast of. But I do congratu¬ 
late you. I suppose you and Caroline will be leaving here 
soon. 

Frederick. We shall remain about two weeks longer, 
and I am sorry to hear that Mrs. Dutton can’t keep us after 
Saturday. {Looks languishingly at Thankful.) I find 
this place very attractive. 




THE GOOSE CREEK LINE. 


11 


Caroline. Can’t you keep us for a couple of weeks 
longer, Mrs. Dutton? 

Mrs. Dutton. I would, but Pa has got to go to Buffalo 
with a carload of cattle to sell, and Marjorie and I must 
clean this house. ( Dusts chair with apron.) Then the 
blinds have got to be painted, and there will be the painter 
to board. Then the thrashers is coming (dusts table while 
talking) , and there will be eleven men to four meals, and 
after them the silo fillers, nine men for three days; and 
after them the hay pressers, seven men staying right along 
day and night for a week, and after them the wood chop¬ 
pers—• 

Thankful (interrupting) . Don’t tell us how long the 
wood choppers are likely to stay, or what comes after them. 
How will you ever get enough cooked for them all to eat ? 
I should be afraid so many hungry men would eat me up. 

Mrs. Dutton. Well, they might if I was young and 
tender like you, Thankful, but I shan’t get them anything 
’laborate; just plain meals. 

Frederick. What, for instance? (Mrs. Dutton con¬ 
tinues to dust at intervals.) 

Mrs. Dutton. Well, as a sample for breakfast, oat¬ 
meal and cream and sugar or honey for them as prefers it, 
then graham gems, and buckwheat pancakes, with fried pork 
and maple molasses, two kinds of cookies and jell and 
pickles— 

Daniel. ( interrupting). And sauerkraut, mother, and 
apple pie. 

Mrs. Dutton. Sauerkraut and apple pie, of course. 
Just a plain farmer’s breakfast. 

Thankful. Give us a sample dinner. 

Mrs. Dutton. Well, I’ll say roast beef browned down 
in the kettle, mashed potatoes and brown gravy, of course, 
and squash and mashed turnip, pickled beets and coldslaw, 
brown bread and white bread, and butter, tomato chowder, 
apple butter, coffee, and buttermilk of course, for them as 
craves it, two kinds of pie, and cookies of course, caraway 
cookies with a raisin in the middle— 



12 


THE GOOSE CREEK LINE. 


Frederick. And is that all ? 

Daniel. Yes; just a plain, common farmer’s dinner. 

Thankful. I beg of you, Mrs. Dutton, don't tell what 
you think of giving them for supper. 

Frederick. It’s my opinion there won’t any of them live 
'til supper. 

Enter Wimpie Wiggins on a run. 

Wimpie. It’s done! It’s done! 

All. Oh., is it? 

Wimpie. And I ran all the way down here to tell you. 

Frederick. I wonder that they don't ring in here. I 
told them to call me first. 

Wimpie. And it’s real long, too. 

Daniel ( pats Wimpie on the head). It reaches quite a 
distance, little gal. 

Wimpie. And to think it came near being cut off too 
short. 

Frederick. What do you mean, child? 

Wimpie. It would have been only Miss Albro came in 
and measured it. 

Reuben ( much astonished) . She did? Miss Albro meas¬ 
ured it? 

Wimpie. Yes, and it is just as good as new. 

Daniel {advances toward Frederick and shakes finger 
at him sternly). Now look here, Mr. Fielding, if this 
line hain’t new we won’t have it. Goose Holler is just as 
good as Cabob Flats, and they had a new line over there, 
and if you put us off with any second-hand contrivances 
you’ll hear from me. 

Wimpie. I s’posed you had all heard that it wasn’t new. 
Miss Elder Simmons give it to me and she had it for the 
Pan-American, so it ain't so very old. 

Marjorie ( shakes Wimpie). What do you mean, Wim¬ 
pie Wiggins ? What are you talking about ? 

Wimpie. Why, my new dress, of course. It’s done! It’s 
done! {All laugh.) 

Mrs. Dutton. And we supposed you meant the tele¬ 
phone. You little tyke, to fool us like that. 








THE GOOSE CREEK LINE. 


13 


Thankful. I'm very glad that you have a new dress, 
Wimpie, and I’ll get you a new hair ribbon to go with it. 

W impie. I’d love a new hair ribbon all to pieces. I 
never had but one new ribbon and that came around cigars. 
It was yellow and it wasn't worth, a cent neither. I guess 
I’ll run over and tell Miss Simmons that it is done. (Exit.) 

Caroline. Who is that child and where did she come 
from ? 

Frederick. I’ve noticed her watching the men at work 
and wondered whose child she was. She seems real bright. 

Thankful. She is real bright. A Mrs. Graham took her 
from the orphan asylum and then she went to Boston to 
live with her son. She simply left her here with the Widow 
Battles. It is a shame that she has no real home; she just 
runs wild. If I had a home I would adopt her myself. 

Frederick (to Thankful). Perhaps we can arrange 
it. (Caroline looks vexed.) 

Daniel. The Widder Battles couldn’t spare her. She 
keeps her too busy drivin’ that flock of one hundred tur¬ 
keys into my grain fields. 

Caroline. Come, Frederick, come up stairs and read 
your letters. (They start to go and the phone rings one 
long and three short rings. All look at phone and show 
much interest. Frederick goes to phone and takes down 
receiver.) 

Frederick. Hello! Yes, this is Fielding. Fine! Clear 
as a bell—I mean a bell phone. Goodby! (Hangs up re¬ 
ceiver.) And now the line is done. And you, Mr. Dutton, 
as the largest stockholder, shall be the first to use it. 

Daniel. How do you run the darned thing—up and 
down like a pump handle, or ’round and ’round like a sas¬ 
sage grinder? 

Marjorie. Oh, daddy, don’t say sassage. 

Daniel (puts one hand on Marjorie’s shoulder and 
shakes one finger at her.) Now, Marjorie, I’ve sent you 
away to school, and I’ve bought you a pianner, and I’ve 
put one hundred dollars in the bank for you every birthday 


14 


THE GOOSE CREEK LINE. 


since you was born. Your ma’s teased and teased till I’ve 
let you wear silk stockings, and I’ve bought you a gold 
chain and peanut to wear on your neck— 

Marjorie ( interrupting ) . No, daddy. You mean a gold 
chain and pendant. 

Daniel. Marjorie, I said a gold peanut and I mean a 
gold peanut. The jeweler he said to me, says he: “Mr. 
Dutton, here’s a gold chain and peanut for twenty-five dol¬ 
lars. Some calls urn a dolliver,” says he, and I took it. And 
if you want anything else name it and I'll git it for you; 
but don’t you try to tell your old dad anything about sassage, 
for I've made hundreds and hundreds of pounds of sassage 
before you was born. 

Frederick. Well, sassage or sausage, it is all good stuff. 
Now, Mr. Dutton, would you care to talk with some of 
your neighbors? ( While the phoning is being done Reuben 
and Marjorie sit on the couch and converse in whispers , 
smile , etc .) 

Daniel. Yes, I’ll try her a whack. I want to know if 
Si Perkins has ’noculated the ground for his alfa. He was 
going to put in some alfa and you have to ’noculate for it. 

Frederick. Go ahead. You ring once for Central and 
they will get Mr. Perkins for you. 

Daniel ( rings , Mrs. Dutton stands at his elbow , takes 
her spectacles from the top of her head and polishes them 
with her apron and puts them on . Daniel rings again . 
Then very loudly .) Is this the Middle? No, this is me! 
What is it doing? What, all by itself? Wall, I’ll be horn- 
swoggled! 

Mrs. Dutton. What did Si say, Pa? (Daniel and Mrs. 
Dutton face each other with much interest .) 

Daniel. I rung and they said suthin’, I don’t know 
what, and I said, “Is this the Middle?” And they said, 
“Number?” And I said, “No, this is me.” And they said, 
“Line is busy.” And I said, “What is it doing?” And they 
said, “Just talkin’.” And I listened and there it was sure 
enough talking away to itself as chipper as could be. 

Mrs. Dutton. What did it say to itself, pa? 


THE GOOSE CREEK LINE. 


15 


Daniel. It said it as plain as I am talking now. 

Marjorie. What did it say, daddy? 

Daniel. It said, “Shake well before using and apply to 
the stummick on a flannel cloth.” 

Mrs. Dutton. And you don’t know whose stummick, 
nor what was in the bottle; wal for all this living world! 

Frederick. Never mind-; you will get used to all this 
later. Do you want to talk, Mrs. Dutton? 

Mrs. Dutton. Me? No! I should say not. I ain’t 
afraid to use it but I must get dinner. 

Thankful. What are we going to have, Mrs. Dutton? 

Mrs. Dutton. Well, I’ll tell you what I lay out to 
have, Thankful. Mashed potatoes, salt fish, with thick 
cream, strawberry preserves, and peach shortcake, toma¬ 
toes, and stuffed peppers, dutch cheese, quince jelly, and 
green corn boiled on the cob. And say, Thankful, don’t 
you want to come and whip some cream and put in some 
powdered sugar for the shortcake? 

Thankful. Sure. 

Mrs. Dutton. Pa, you get some wood; then you empty 
that keg of vinegar into the barrel in the cellar; then you 
put a new leather on the cistern pump, go and see if old 
speckle has layed yet, and then turn the calves into the 
orchard. (Exit Daniel, looking very dejected, followed 
by Mrs. Dutton, who pauses in the door.) Can’t you stay 
to dinner, Reuben? 

Reuben. No; I ought to have gone long ago. (Mrs. 
Dutton exits. Reuben continues.) I will be up to go to 
the donation in the schoolhouse, Marjorie. 

Thankful. The donation is postponed because the 
schoolhouse is being repaired. 

Caroline. And besides, my brother is going to take 
Marjorie and me into town to the picture show this even¬ 
ing. 

Reuben. All right. I will be up Sunday anyway. (Exit 
Reuben. Marjorie goes to door and waves her hand. Re¬ 
turns to room.) 


16 


THE GOOSE CREEK LINE. 


Frederick. I thought that perhaps Miss Thelander 
would like to go. 

Caroline (hastily). Oh, Thankful don’t care for the 
movies. 

Thankful (tartly). I said I wouldn’t care to go to 
them every evening. 

Enter Mrs. Dutton. 

Mrs. Dutton. Marjorie, take off your white apron and 
put on your gingham one and slip up to the garden and get 
the tomatoes and green corn, and don’t you get any toma¬ 
toes that ain’t dead ripe, and be sure that the corn isn’t 
too big, nor agin too little. Then run down to the spring- 
house and get the cream and butter, and then feed the little 
chickens, water the goslings and give the little turkeys some 
dutch cheese, and you step lively. (Exit Mrs. Dutton. 
Marjorie removes and folds white apron, places it on chair 
back, puts on dark apron and exits.) 

Frederick. That woman would make a good command¬ 
er-in-chief. She has set quite a task for them to do before 
dinner. 

Thankful. It amuses me to death. And the beauty of 
it is that they won't do half the things she has told them to, 
and she knows it. But I must go and whip that cream or 
I’ll hear from her myself. (Exit.) 

Caroline. Oh, Frederick, her father is rich? 

Frederick (absent-mindedly). Is he? What of it? 

Caroline. I have always wanted you to have a rich 
wife. She is an only child and I think she likes you. 

Frederick. I don’t know about that, but she is certainly 
the most attractive girl I have ever met; so quiet and sen¬ 
sible, and so well educated. I had never given her parentage 
a thought. She might be an orphan for all I know. 

Caroline. Of course you knew she wasn’t an orphan. 
Now I am going to help you all I can. I will talk to her 
myself. 

Frederick. Oh, no; I beg of you, Caroline, do not men¬ 
tion it to her in any way. I will do the talking when the 


THE GOOSE CREEK LINE. 


17 


right time comes; but I am glad you don’t object. I had 
thought that you didn’t like her. 

Caroline. I think she is perfectly sweet, and as pretty 
as a pink, and so girlish and playful. 

Frederick. Playful? I never thought of her as playful. 

Caroline. Well, anyway, you are the best brother in 
the world to bring me out here. I have had such a lovely 
vacation I am sorry that the line is done. 

Frederick. We shall have to stay a while longer. I am 
glad you have enjoyed it, Caroline, but remember, not a 
word to her, and as for her father’s money, I don’t care a 
fig for it. (Exit.) 

Caroline. How strangely he talked. “Quiet, sensible 
and well educated.” I call her a rather flighty young piece. 
But Mr. Reuben Rogers don’t get her. Frederick shall have 
her or my name is not Caroline Fielding. 

Enter Marjorie, wearing gingham apron, which she re¬ 
moves and puts on white one. 

Caroline. Oh, Marjorie, I was just thinking how lovely 
you would look in a blue silk frock, and a lace collar, and a 
pearl necklace, and Fm sure my brother thinks so, too. 

Marjorie. I never had a real silk dress. 

Caroline. And would you like to go to the city to live 
and go to balls, and luncheons, and theater parties, and 
ride in automobiles, and never, never have to do any more 
work ? 

Marjorie (rises and clasps her hands). Oh, I would 
just love it! But I know that our folks would never leave 
dear old Goose Hollow farm. (Sits.) 

Caroline. The girl who marries my brother will have 
all these thifigs. 

Marjorie. Is your brother so rich, then? 

Carolne (hesitates). Fie—well—your father would no 
doubt give you a fine dowry. 

Marjorie (rises with delight and counts the things off 
on her finger.) Oh, yes. Mother says if I should ever marry 
that I am to have four feather beds, with pillows, and I 
have got twenty quilts, and I’m to have bushels of sheets 


18 


THE GOOSE CREEK LINE. 


and pillow-slips and towels and things, and you have seen 
Blossom? She is the lightest colored Jersey in the whole 
bunch. She’s mine. And so is the black colt with the white 
star in his forehead; and both dogs are mine; and every¬ 
thing in the west bedroom is mine. And I m to have my 
great-grandmother’s spinning wheel. Of course I can’t 
spin, but then it will be lovely to have, and mother says— 

Caroline (aside). Four feather beds. Heavens! Yes, 
yes; that will be fine, and don’t you want to go for an auto 
ride with Frederick and myself Sunday? 

Marjorie. Yes, but Reuben was coming up. 

Caroline. I will phone and tell him not to come. 

Marjorie. I don’t know as you—* 

Caroline (rushes to phone, takes dozen directory, zvhich 
should hang by instrument. Rings.) Give me 12K31. Is 
this Reuben? Marjorie says not to call on her Sunday. 
She is going to the city with Mr. Fielding. 

Marjorie (comes and places hand on Caroline’s arm). 
And with Miss Fielding. Tell him you are going, too. Tell 
him. 

Caroline (shakes off arm). Yes, this is Miss Fielding. 
Since you ask I think she is rather tired of your company. 
Yes, I’ll tell her. (Hangs up receiver.) 

Marjorie. Oh, what have you done? What did Reuben 
say? 

Caroline. He said that he should not trouble you Sun¬ 
day, or ever. 

Marjorie (stamps foot). Well, if he feels like that, let 
him go. 

Enter Daniel, Mrs. Dutton and Thankful. Phone 
rings as they enter. Marjorie answers. 

Marjorie. Yes, this is Marjorie. I don’t know. I’ll 
ask mother. Ma, Mrs. Battles wants to know if you have 
any old port. She has a sore throat and wants some. 

Mrs. Dutton. Old port? Ast her again ; she can’t mean 
old port. 

Marjorie. I knozv she said old port. 


THE GOOSE CREEK LINE. 


19 


Mrs. Dutton. Port? Me have old port when I’m presi¬ 
dent of the W. C. T. U. and your pa run for Supervisor on 
the Prohibition ticket? 

Daniel. Yes, I did run, but it was aginst my constitu¬ 
tion. Ask her if Jamaica ginger won’t do. 

Mrs. Dutton (pushes Marjorie away and takes re¬ 
ceiver and shouts). No, Minerva, we hain’t got none, we 
never had none, and we won’t never have none. ( Hangs 
up receiver.) 

Marjorie ( starts to leave room). I guess I’ll go and 
make some fudge. Can I, ma? 

Mrs. Dutton. No, indeed. I won’t have you wasting 
sugar. Don’t you make a drop of fudge. ( Exit Marjorie. 
Mrs. Dutton runs to door and shouts.) The cocoa is in 
the tin cupboard, and don’t you think of using the illumi¬ 
nated skillet! {Exit Mrs. Dutton.) 

Marjorie ( comes to door and calls). Daddy! Daddy 
darling, come and fix the fire! 

Daniel ( with alacrity). O’ course I will, honey. {Exit.) 

Caroline (drazus chair near to Thankful, who takes up 
sewing and begins to work). Frederick is in love with 
Marjorie. He told me so, and she has sent Reuben about 
his business. 

Thankful. Indeed. 

Caroline {confidentially). Didn’t Mr. Dutton say that 
he had put a hundred dollars in the bank for Marjorie every 
birthday ? 

Thankful {does not look up from work, speaks shortly). 
He did. 

Caroline. How old is she? 

Thankful {looking at Caroline in disgust). She was 
seventeen the seventh day of last January. 

Caroline. Seventeen hundred dollars. 

Marjorie (calls from door). Miss Fielding, the fudge 
is almost done. Won’t you come and butter the tins? 

Caroline. Yes, certainly. {Exit.) 

Enter Frederick. 


20 


THE GOOSE CREEK LINE. 


Frederick (takes chair vacated by Caroline). How for¬ 
tunate. I find you alone at last. 

Thankful. Alone, sir, but not lonely. 

Frederick (nervously). I have long wanted an inter¬ 
view with you, Miss Thelander, and I should be thankful— 
that is, you would be thankful—I would be thankful if 
you—• 

Thankful (interrupting scornfully). Indeed, Mr. Field¬ 
ing. Your sister has just told me your cause for thankful¬ 
ness, and we won’t discuss it. 

Frederick. I told her not to mention it, but what do 
you think of it? 

Thankful (rising). I think you are much too old. 

Frederick. I am only forty-nine and I have never been 
in love before. (Looks languishingly at Thankful.) 

Thankful. This, sir, does not interest me. 

Enter Wimpie Wiggins, running. 

Wimpie. Say, teacher, Reuben Rogers is going away 
next Saturday on the three o’clock train to stay all winter. 

Frederick (walks to side of stage). Plague take that 
young-one. She is always around when she is not wanted. 
(Returns to chair near Thankful.) Run home now, Wim¬ 
pie, and I’ll get you a new doll. 

Thankful (takes Wimpie on her lap). Stay right here, 
Wimpie, and I’ll get you two dolls. What is this you say 
about Reuben? 

Wimpie (rising and spreading out her arms). Oh, Reu¬ 
ben is going away—way off. He is going to stay all winter, 
and maybe forever and never. (Climbs back in Thank¬ 
ful’s lap.) 

Frederick. I wonder what takes Reuben away. Just as 
he has started to build his new house and has bought those 
pure-bred cattle? 

Thankful (indignantly). I shouldn’t think you would 
need to ask. Poor boy. It is a shame! A wicked shame! 
I would have rather that Goose Hollow went without a tele¬ 
phone line forever than to have Reuben’s heart broken. 

Frederick (perplexed) . What has the Goose Creek line 


THE GOOSE CREEK LINE. 


21 


got to do with Reuben’s heart? I saw him last night and 
he acted very cool. I couldn’t think what was the matter. 

Thankful. Well, if you can’t guess, ask Marjorie. 

Enter Daniel, Mrs. Dutton and Marjorie. Marjorie 
carries plate of fudge, which she passes around. Each 
takes a piece except Mrs. Dutton. Wimpie takes tzvo. 

Mrs. Dutton ( places hand on stomach). No, thank you. 
My stummick don’t feel just right. It sort of gnaws. 

Knock at the door is heard. Mrs. Dutton goes to door 
and admits Mrs. Battles. 

Mrs. Dutton. Mr. Fieldin’, this is the Widder Battles. 
Miss Fieldin’, the same. (Mrs. Battles greets both.) 
Minerva, this is the man that is putting in the line. 

Mrs. Battles. I suspicioned that it were. G’do, Daniel. 
(Shakes hands.) G’do, Marjorie. G’do, Wimpie Wiggins. 
You here? Now, miss, you can’t have any supper. 

Wimpie. Didn’t spect to have nothin’ but separated milk 
and johnny-cake. 

Thankful (to Caroline). This is the lady with whom 
I am going to board. Maybe she would take you also. 

Caroline (in an undertone) . Would it be a good place? 

Thankful. Oh, yes; pretty good. (To every one.) 
Excuse me, please, I have some school papers to correct. 
(Exit.) 

Caroline. Mrs. Battles, could you take my brother and 
myself to board for a week or two? 

Mrs. Battles. Yes, I’ll take you for five dollars apiece. 

Mrs. Dutton. No, Minerva, you won’t charge them no 
five dollars a week. Three dollars is a plenty. And you 
must let Miss Fieldin’ put her shirt waists in the wash, and 
let her have a hot flat whenever she wants it, and let her 
have a settee on the veranda. And remember they have to 
have cream and eggs and fresh, fruit every meal. 

Daniel. And they are very fond of garden sass, too. 

Marjorie. You mean sauce, daddy. 

Mrs. Battles. If they board with me they will have to 
eat what is set before um. And say, Mary Ann, why did 


22 


THE GOOSE CREEK LINE. 


you refuse to let me have a little piece of salt meat to bind 
on my throat? 

All. Salt meat? 

Daniel (rising and facing Mrs. Battles. Daniel and 
Mrs. Battles occupy center front of stage.) You foamed 
over— 

Marjorie (interrupting ). You mean phone, daddy. 

Daniel (pushes her aside). You foamed over and asked 
for old port. (Spells, making motions with finger for each 
letter.) O-l-d, old; p-o-r-t, port; old port. And we hadn’t 
none. 

Mrs. Battles (fiercely). I asked for old pork! (Spell¬ 
ing with same gestures used by Daniel.) O-l-d, old ; p-o-r-k, 
pork; old pork. Did you think that me, a deacon’s daugh¬ 
ter, and a preacher’s widder, would be askin’ for old port! 

All. Oh, old pork! salt pork! (All laugh.) 

Wimpie (very loud and pert). She didn’t have any sore 
throat. She wanted it to fry for dinner. 

Mrs. Battles (seises Wimpie and shakes her, cuffs her 
ears and puts her out of the room, then addresses Caro¬ 
line). I’ll take you to board at four fifty a week. (To 
all.) And the Social Circle meets with me next Saturday. 
And I want you all to come and all bring eatables and pay 
two shillings apiece for your suppers. You know we are 
raising money to buy the Grange table cloths. 

Wimpie puts head in at door. 

Wimpie (shouts). Come quick! Everybody! Miss Bat¬ 
tles’ turkeys are in Mr. Dutton’s cornfield gobbling every¬ 
thing. (All run from stage except Mrs. Battles, who 
goes slowly out as curtain falls.) 

Curtain. 


THE GOOSE CREEK LINE. 


23 


Act II. 

Scene: Home of Widow Battles. Change the stage 
a little, but general f urnishings may be the same. 

At rise Mrs. Battles is discovered alone. She dusts a 
little and arranges the chairs. 

Mrs. Battles. There, I have mixed the bran and coffee 
half and half, and I've put in the sale-molasses, to give it 
color, and if that Wimpie didn’t see me mixing them it will 
be all right, but no telling what will happen with her around ; 
but after they hear my news they won’t know whether they 
are drinking coffee or water. Bran and molasses won’t 
signify or I’ll miss my guess. Here they come now. 
(Knock is heard. Mrs. Battles goes to door.) 

Enter Mrs. Smith, Mrs. Woodward, Mrs. Drake and 
Mrs. Allen. Mrs. Battles greets all and seats them. 
They remove their zvraps, zvhich she carries from the stage. 
Each wears a white apron and has crochet zvork, tatting or 
other light work which they take up at once. Mrs. Battles 
speaks of the zueather, etc. 

Enter Caroline. 

Mrs. Battles. Ladies, this is Miss Fielding, sister of 
the man who put in Goose Creek Line. Miss Fielding, this 
is Mrs. Smith, Mrs. Woodward, Mrs. Drake and Mrs. Al¬ 
len, neighbors and Grangers. (Caroline greets each as 
introduced. They shake hands.) 

Enter Thankful. She greets each by name and shakes 
hands. 

Mrs. Smith. I’m glad that the schoolhouse is fixed. 
When are they going to have the donation party, Thankful? 

Thankful. Next Monday night. 

Mrs. Woodward. Did Ernestine have her gogify lesson 
yesterday? Her father couldn’t find some of the questions 
hisself. 

Thankful. Yes, she had it. 


24 


THE GOOSE CREEK LINE. 


Mrs. Drake. I was sorry that I had to keep Louise out, 
but she didn’t have any rubbers and it rained so. 

Mrs. Allen. I think it does children good to miss now 
and then a day, but the school law has got so interfering 
that you can’t tell who your children belong to—yourself 
or the gov’munt. 

Thankful. Yes, we all have to watch, out for the school 
law. Have you seen Marjorie this week, Miss Fielding? 
I wonder why she and Mrs. Dutton don’t come. 

Caroline. No, I haven’t seen any of the family since 
we came from there. My brother is coming from Buffalo 
with Mr. Dutton today, and he will be so disappointed if he 
doesn’t see Marjorie. 

Mrs. Battles. I’m afraid that Marjorie won’t see him 
right away. 

Caroline { rising ). Has anything happened to my 
brother ? 

Enter Wimpie, dressed in white zvith ribbon on hair and 
good shoes and stockings . 

Thankful. Or to Marjorie? Oh, has anything hap¬ 
pened to dear little Marjorie? 

Mrs. Battles {clasping hands and rolling up eyes ). I 
have some fearful news. 

Caroline. Oh, is my brother dead? 

Wimpie. I hope he ain't dead, ’cause he promised me 
a doll and he ain’t never got it neither. 

Mrs. Battles {points finger at Wimpie). You set down, 
Miss, or I’ll send you to bed. 

Wimpie {very loudly ). You can’t send me to bed ’cause 
there ain’t none of the beds made up yet. 

Mrs. Battles {takes Wimpie by the shoulders and sits 
her dozen very decidedly ). I won’t beat about the bush. 
Marjorie Dutton is stone blind. 

All. Blind! 

Thankful. I can’t believe it. They would have sent 
for me. 

Mrs. Battles. I went to the phone last night and I 
heard Marjorie tell Mary Wilson that she was blind. 


THE GOOSE CREEK LINE. 


25 


All (exclaim). Horrors! Mercy! Goodness! ( Let each 
say something. All talk at the same time.) 

Thankful. I don’t believe it! Yon can’t make me be¬ 
lieve it! 

Mrs. Battles. Well, it is so. Marjorie is a rather up¬ 
pity, high-beaded piece, always interrupting her pa and dic¬ 
tating how he shall talk. 

Mrs. Allen. That is so. I was down there, and Daniel 
said that the lop-horned cow was the best critter on the 
farm, and Marjorie broke right in and said, “You mean 
creature, daddy.” In my day a girl would have no more 
thought of interrupting her father than slie would have 
thought of flying. 

Mrs. Battles. And besides she is vain, and her vanity 
has brought this calamity on her. 

Thankful. Nonsense. She is a dear, good child. Now 
you tell us just what you heard. 

Mrs. Battles. Did you ever hear of anyone having 
their face enameled? 

Thankful. Yes, I have, I have read about it. A white 
pigment is injected underneath the skin and the complexion 
always remains beautiful, but it is very dangerous. 

Mrs. Battles. Well, I understood Marjorie to tell Mary 
Wilson that she had had her face enameled, to surprise her 
father. 

Mrs. Woodward. I guess it will surprise him all right. 

Mrs. Battles. Yes, she said, “I wanted to surprise 
daddy.” And she said something about twenty dollars. 
So I suppose it cost twenty dollars. And she said the word 
blind several times and I was determined to find out if it 
was so, and as soon as I got the dishes done I put on my 
sunbonnet and went right down there, and I crept up and 
peeked into the winder, and there lay Marjorie on the 
kitchen settee, with a white cloth over her eyes, and there 
was Mary Ann a setting by the stove lookin’ pretty mauger, 
and I just turned around and came home as fast as I could 
canter. 

Thankful (rising and pointing at Mrs. Battles). \ou 


26 


THE GOOSE CREEK LINE. 


did? You went down there and saw your best friends in 
great trouble and just galloped away? Why didn’t you go 
in and see if you couldn’t help? Why didn’t you tell me last 
night? Now who else have you told? 

Mrs. Battles. I told Jake Jackson’s folks, and Jake is 
going down to the depot and meet Dan Dutton and tell him 
the sad news. 

Thankful. You ought not to have told anyone. I shall 
go right down there and see what is in this. 

Mrs. Drake. I am afraid, Thankful, there is something 
in it, for I heard Mary Wilson ask Frances Waite last 
night if she had heard about Marjorie. I thought it was 
our ring or I wouldn’t have listened, and I didn’t just hear 
what Frances said, but I heard the word blind, and I cer¬ 
tainly heard Mary say twenty dollars. And that night about 
nine o’clock I know that John was just winding the clock 
and I was putting out the cat, when all of a sudden the phone 
rang, and it was ourn, and I went to the phone all of a trem¬ 
ble because it was so late at night, after nine. And I was 
afraid that some one was sick, and it was Mary Ann Dut¬ 
ton and she said: “Have you got any Pettit’s eye salve?” 
And I said, “No.” And she hung up without saying good¬ 
bye, but I didn’t mistrust nothing. 

Mrs. Woodward. Well, come to think, I heard Frances 
talking to the minister and she said will you please get some 
one to wait on table in Marjorie Dutton’s place at the dona¬ 
tion? And he said, “Why?” And Frances said, “She is 
afraid she can’t come.” 

Mrs. Allen. Did you hear that? I heard it too and I 
thought that Frances said something about pies, but it must 
have been eyes. Oh, what is this world a cornin’ to? 
(Shakes head.) 

Mrs. Smith. Well, Dan Dutton has just spoilt that girl 
anyway, lettin’ her wear silk stockings and flaunting a gold 
necklace every day, and, as Minerva says, she is vain, and 
her vanity has brought its own reward. 

Mrs. Drake. And Mary Ann is just as bad; lets her 
wear white aprons every day. When I was a girl if I had 


THE GOOSE CREEK LINE. 


27 


a white apron for Sundays I thought I was right in town. 
And say it is such a coincidence. I heard the same talk 
and I was a good mind to call up Mary Ann and ask why 
Marjorie couldn’t wait on table. Well, it is a terrible 
calamity and it has come into our midst and we must be 
resigned. ( Shakes her head. All sigh and groan. Mean¬ 
while Thankful looks out of the window.) 

Mrs. Woodward. Well, one thing, maybe Reuben Rog¬ 
ers will take time to look at some of the other girls now. 

Mrs. Allen {excitedly). Oh, let me tell you. I heard 
Reuben’s mother tell Mrs. Jackson that some busybody 
had made trouble between Reuben and Marjorie and that 
Reuben is going to Chicago to work. She said that his 
pa had talked to him and she had talked to him and tried 
to git him to stay, but that he had turned off the carpenters 
who were working on his new house and was going Satur¬ 
day. 

Wimpie. That is today. He is going on the three o’clock 
train. 

Caroline. Then he’ll start in less than half an hour for 
it is twenty-five minutes to three now. 

Mrs. Smith. I heard the last of that conversation my¬ 
self and Mrs. Rogers said that they couldn’t do nothing 
with Reuben. He would go. 

Wimpie. I seen Marjorie’s ma leading her in the gar¬ 
den and her eyes was done up. 

Mrs. Allen. And say. Andrew stopped there yester¬ 
day to borrow a corn cutter and he seen Marjorie with blue 
goggles on, but he thought maybe she was wearing them to 
be stylish, so he didn’t ask any questions. 

Mrs. Battles. Now, Miss Thankful, maybe you will 
believe it after all this evidence. Marjorie Dutton is stone 
blind! 

Mrs. Drake. What a blessing the telephone is. We 
wouldn’t have known a thing about this if we hadn’t hap¬ 
pened to hear it over the phone. What would we do with¬ 
out the Goose Creek Line? 


28 


THE GOOSE CREEK LINE. 


Caroline. Well, if she is blind my brother won’t marry 
her. (All look at Caroline in surprise.) 

Thankful (from window). Here they come! Here 
come Mr. Dutton and Mr. Fielding. 

Enter Daniel and Frederick. Daniel in good business 
suit with derby hat rather large for him, Frederick looking 
as fine and well dressed as possible. They greet no one. 

Daniel (excitedly) . What is this story about my girl 
being blind? Not that I believe it, but I want to know 
where the story started from. Jake Jackson met me at the 
station and told me that my Marjorie was blind, and he 
told me to stop here and get the full particulars. 

Caroline. Marjorie had her face enameled and it has 
made her blind. 

Frederick (loudly). What sort of foolish babble is this? 

Daniel. 1 don’t know what ’nameling anybody’s face 
would be like, but I can tell you one thing, if Marjorie’s 
ma caught her putting even corn starch on her face she 
would skin her alive. (Exit Wimpie on a run.) 

Mrs. Battles. Well, she’s done it and she has spent 
twenty dollars for it, and it has made her blind! 

Daniel (takes off his hat, takes out red handkerchief 
and wipes his forehead, returns hat to head and groans). 
Oh, it can’t be possible! My dear little Marjorie! 

Thankful. Now, Mr. Dutton, I don’t believe this. I 
was just going down there when you came. 

Frederick. Mrs. Battles, how do you know that Mar¬ 
jorie is blind? 

Mrs. Battles (points to phone). I heard it over the 
Goose Creek Line. 

Daniel. Did Mary Ann foam over and tell you that 
Marjorie was blind? 

Mrs. Battles. No; but I heard Marjorie talking to 
Mary Wilson last night and she told Mary that she was 
blind; that she had had her face enameled and it cost 
twenty dollars, that she had intended to surprise you, and 
I seen her myself with her eyes bandaged lying on the 


THE GOOSE CREEK LINE. 


29 


kitchen settee, and Wimpie saw Mary Ann leading her in 
the garden. 

Frederick. Do I understand that you deliberately lis¬ 
tened to a conversation not meant for your ears ? 

Mrs. Battles. Well, I heard what I said I did, and 
Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Woodward and Nancy Allen and 
Mrs. Drake heard things, too. They heard Mary tell Fran¬ 
ces Waite that Marjorie couldn’t go to the donation, and 
Mary Ann tried to borry Pettit’s Eye Salve of Mrs. Drake. 
Didn’t she, Mrs. Drake? 

Mrs. Drake. She did. 

Mrs. Battles. And they all heard about enamilin’ and 
all heard the word blind. And what hurt did it do? The 
truth is bound to come out. 

Frederick (steps to phone, takes dozen directory and 
reads in a loud, firm tone.) “Any person who wrongfully 
obtains, or attempts to obtain, any knowledge of a message 
not intended for them, or who wilfully divulges what is 
heard by accident, is subject to a fine of not more than 
one thousand dollars, or by imprisonment, for not more 
than two years, or by both such fine and imprisonment. 
Extract from Section 552 of the-penal law. Chapter 40 
of the consolidated laws. (Closes hook, hangs it up and 
looks sternly at Mrs. Battles.) 

Daniel. You ought to be fined and shut up both. If 
you have to pay a thousand dollar fine I guess it will take 
a little of your turkey money. 

Mrs. Battles (shakes finger in Daniel’s face). You 
can’t get me arrested to save your life. Lem Lincoln is 
the constable and I’ve got a mortgage on his hull propity. 

Thankful (looking out door). Oh, here comes Mrs. 
Dutton and Marjorie now, and, yes, there is something the 
matter. They are walking slowly and Marjorie is wearing 
dark glasses. Oh, the poor child ! 

Enter Mrs. Dutton. Wears dark skirt, coat and sun- 
bonnet. Marjorie zvears pretty out-of-doors costume, no 
hat and zuears large 'dark blue glasses. Mrs. Dutton re¬ 
moves sunbonnet and gazes at Daniel in surprise. 


30 


THE GOOSE CREEK LINE. 


Thankful. Oh, Marjorie, what has happened? 

Caroline. Poor Marjorie. We all know that you have 
done wrong, very wrong. 

Mrs. Battles. And you was led on by vanity. ( Points 
finger at Marjorie.) v 

Caroline. And now my brother will have to give you 
up. 

Frederick ( looks at his sister in surprise). Give up 
whom? (Mrs. Smith, Mrs. Woodward, Mrs. Drake and 
Mrs. Allen rise and stand at back of stage. Daniel goes 
and puts arm about Marjorie.) 

Daniel. Yes, by hollyhock! What do you mean? Now, 
Marjorie, tell dad what is the matter? 

Mrs. Dutton. I know I ought never to have let her 
done it, Daniel, but she teased and teased. 

Caroline. Be that as it may, Frederick won’t think of 
marrying a blind woman. 

Mrs. Dutton. Marry? Who talks of marrying here? 
What is all this fuss about, anyway? Daniel, you go ’long 
home. Your supper is on the table and you’ve got baked 
beans, pickles and cheese, corn bread, custard pie and apple 
butter, and after you have et you feed the cat. 

Frederick. Let me say right here that there has been 
a great mistake. I never thought of— 

Thankful. Oh, I never thought you would be so mer¬ 
cenary. 

. Enter Reuben and Wimpie on a run. Reuben well 
dressed and carries bag and umbrella. 

Wimpie (very loudly). Here we be! I grabbed him by 
the coat-tail just as he clum onto the train. Didn’t I, Reu¬ 
ben? (Looks tip at Reuben.) 

Reuben (smiling). You did. I can swear to that. 

Mrs. Battles. You’ll be punished for this, Wimpie. 
Why did you race off after Reuben? 

Wimpie. I heard you say that Marjorie was blind, and 
Mr. Dutton said that her ma was a-going to skin her alive, 
and I just cut and run for Reuben. 


THE GOOSE CREEK LINE. 


31 


Reuben. And she got me, too. 

Wimpie. It was just three o’clock by the station time 
when I ran through the depot. The train was just a ding- 
donging to start and I grabbed Reuben and yanked him 
down and the train went, and he said, “What do you think 
this is. Old Home Week? And I said, “No; but Marjorie 
is blind and her ma is going to skin her alive.” 

Reuben ( goes and stands near Marjorie). Marjorie, 
what is the matter? Wimpie said you were blind, and Jake 
Jackson said you were blind, but right here I want this un¬ 
derstood. W hatever is the matter of your eyes, blind or 
not blind, I feel toward you just as I always did. It will 
make no difference to me. 

Frederick ( slaps Reuben on the shoulder). Good work, 
my boy; good work. But I don’t believe she is blind. 

Marjorie ( removes glasses). Blind? Of course I am 
not blind. Who said I was blind? 

Mrs. Battles. You said so yourself with your own 
mouth. You phoned to Mary Wilson last night that you 
had had your face enameled, that it had cost twenty dollars, 
and that it had made you blind. 

Marjorie. Oh, no, Mrs. Battles; I never told her that. 

Mrs. Battles. Yes, you did. I heard you with my own 
ears. (Daniel has arm about Marjorie. Frederick goes 
arid stands by Thankful. Wimpie stands between them.) 

Mrs. Dutton. Now, Minerva, let me tell you just how 
it was. You all know that Daniel went to Buffalo with a 
carload of cattle to sell. ( All nod.) And I told you that 
we were going to have the blinds painted. Well, Marjorie 
teased and teased to paint them herself and save the twenty 
dollars that we would have paid the painter, so as to sur¬ 
prise her pa. 

Marjorie. So I painted them with white enamel, and 
the turpentine or something in the paint affected my eyes 
and made them very painful. And I told Mary Wilson 
about it over the phone. 


32 


THE GOOSE CREEK LINE. 


i 


Mrs. Battles. Yesterday I sent Wimpie down the road 
after the turkeys. 

Wimpie. No, Mrs. Battles, you sent me to drive them 
into Mr. Dutton’s oats ’cause he was gone away. 

Daniel {laughing). Never mind, Wimp; you keep still 
and let Marjorie tell it. 

Marjorie. There is nothing more to tell. I could see 
as well as ever, but my eyes ached all the time, and mother 
bathed them in witch hazel, and part of the time I have 
worn a bandage on them, and then I wear the glasses be¬ 
cause they still trouble me. I phoned some of the girls 
about it. That is all. 

Wimpie. If you wasn’t blind why did your mother lead 
you in the garden ? 

Marjorie. Oh, she just happened to lead me. We often 
go hand-in-hand. We went to see a late rose on my bush. 

Mrs. Battles. I don’t see that I am a bit to blame. I 
made a very natural mistake. I simply heard the words, 
white enamel, twenty dollars, and blind, and I had been 
reading about a woman who had her face enameled, and I 
just jumped at conclusions. 

Reuben. And it must have been some jump. 

Caroline. And you came near making my brother lose 
his young bride. 

Frederick. I would like to say a few words. My sister 
has put me in a rather unfavorable light before you all. T 
am old enough to be Marjorie’s father, and I am sure she 
never thought of marrying me. I never wanted but one bride 
{takes Thankful's hand) and that is Miss Thankful The- 
lander. I didn’t intend to propose in so large a crowd. 
Thankful, but—but—I’ll be thankful if you’ll have me. 

Caroline. And T thought it was Marjorie he wanted. 

Daniel. By Hector and Grandma! I’m hungry. I 
wouldn’t be so scared for the best yoke of steers in my 
pasture. Come on, Ma. Come on, everybody! Let’s go 
down to our house. 

Mrs. Battles {takes Daniel by the arm). No, Daniel; 


THE GOOSE CREEK LINE. 


33 


you must all stay and eat supper here and pay two shillings 
toward the Grange tablecloths. 

Daniel. I’m so glad that my girl ain’t blind that I'll 
pay for the whole shooting match, and we’ll foam right over 
after them now. 

Marjorie. You mean phone, daddy. 

Thankful. And I want you to promise me one thing, 
Frederick. 

Frederick. I’ll promise you anything in the world. 

Thankful. That is that we shall adopt Wimpie Wig- 
gins. 

Reuben. Marjorie, I will make them change the name 
of the line. We won’t have Goose Creek Line. You can 
have any old name you want. 

Marjorie. I don’t want it changed, Reuben. I just love 
the name Goose Creek Line, and I want everything to be 
just as it used to be. 

Frederick. Wait a minute and I’ll call up the Daily 
Bugle and have them announce the engagement of the four 
of us. (Rings.) Hello! Daily Bugle, please. Is this the 
Daily Bugle? Will you please in an early issue announce 
the engagements of Frederick Fielding and Miss Thankful 
Thelander and Mr. Reuben Rogers and Miss Marjorie Dut¬ 
ton. Both marriages to take place in the near future. 
(Hangs up receiver.) 

Mrs. Battles. Now about the supper. If Daniel is 
agreeable to buying the tablecloths for the Grange out of 
his own pocket, we may as well all go down to Mary Ann’s 
to supper. 

Daniel. I'll pay for them and get the best in the store. 
Come on, everybody, down to our house and get a drink 
of buttermilk. ( Exit all except Wimpie and Reuben and 
Marjorie. Daniel and Mrs. Dutton arm-in-arm, Fred¬ 
erick and Thankful ditto; then Caroline and Mrs. 
Battles; then Mrs. Allen, Mrs. Woodward, Mrs. Smith 
and Mrs. Drake. Daniel from off stage, shouts loudly.) 
Come on, Reuben and Marjorie, and git a drink of butter¬ 
milk. 


34 


THE GOOSE CREEK LINE. 


Reuben. Yes, let us drink a bumper of buttermilk to the 
continued ringing of the Goose Creek Line. (Exit Reuben 
and Marjorie. Wimpie climbs into a chair and rings phone 
till the curtain is down.) 


Curtain. 


The Royal Highway 

By CHARLES ULRICH. 

Price, 25 Cents 

. A ^ omed\ -drama in 4 acts; 8 males 3 femalps Timp o \t 

ver rS Char?es eS Winiimr i0rS ' • Characte . rs: Arthur Morgan, a’law- 
£®r.v Gnarles Williams, a mine superintendent. Bill Hampton a 

political boss. Harry Felton, a clerk. Horace Allen, a secretary 
R ey . Jordan, a Methodist minister. Jimmy Farrell an ex-convict* 
Sam Harrison, a detective. Margaret Ames, known as Miss 

tolroftheL^s’ 1 Aia W i'oc a iet t y en0graPher - Mrs ' Mary Jones ’ presi - 

SYNOPSIS. 

^T he i ?. ame ?,L raoder , n Politics. The bribe. Morgan 
defies a political boss. Ill crush you like I would a flv!” An 
anonymous philanthropist. The compact and avowal of love. The 
robbery and accusation. Margaret saves Morgan’s honor “No 
it was Providence!” 

Act II.—“I wish I had a millionaire friend like Miss Ames!” 
barren butts in. “Youse is playing a game of hearts what ain’t 
T? 7 -ii"- our c( ?^r, act - Williams divides the spoils. Margaret defies 
Williams, Where did you get that money?” A villian’s kiss and 
punishment. The power of attorney. “You’ll be at my feet cry¬ 
ing for mercy!” 

Act III.—“Who is this anonymous philanthropist?” “The New 
York police are looking for you!” The tables turned. “I’ll get 
your measure all right!” The story of Morgan’s sorrow. “I could 
not forgive the woman who deceived me!” The nomination and 
accusation. Margaret’s joy. “You are indeed a man among men!” 

Act IV.—“This suspense is driving me mad!” The letter. “I’m 
on the track of the man who killed my sister!” The convict’s 
secret. “Williams was my pal in Sing Sing!” Margaret reveals 
herself. “Gee! She’s an iceberg!” “How little you know of true 
love!” Williams pays the penalty of treachery. Harry’s promo¬ 
tion. On the royal highway. 

Re-Taming of the Shrew 

By JOHN W. POSTGATE. 


Price, 25 Cents 

Humorous Shakespearean travesty in one act; 6 males, 5 females. 
Time, about 45 minutes. One simple interior scene. Characters: 
Petruchio, Angelo, Duke of Illyria, Othello, Macbeth, Grumio, 
Katherine, Mariana, Viola, Desdemonia and Lady Macbeth. Plot: 
After her woeful honeymoon, Katherine becomes an ardent suf¬ 
fragist and imposes household duties on Petruchio, who submits 
to petticoat government. At a meeting of the women, man’s doom 
as a political or domestic power is announced. The women return 
to Petruchio’s home to find their husbands having a high old time. 
A lively controversy ensues but the men win the day when they 
threaten to appeal to the divorce courts. This travesty draws 
material from “Taming of the Shrew,” “Measure for Measure,” 
“Twelfth Night,” “Othello” and “Macbeth.” It retains many of 
the original lines from the plays, yet most ingeniously devised to 
fit the conditions of today. Costumes either Shakespearean or 
modern. Especially recommended for schools, colleges, etc. Re¬ 
plete with humor and should please any good club or society. 


T. S. DENISON & COMPANY, Publishers 

154 W. Randolph Street, CHICAGO 






The Deacon Entangled 

By HARRY OSBORNE. 

Price, 25 Cents 

Comedy in 3 acts; 6 males, 4 females. Time, 2 hours. Scene: 
1 interior. Characters: Deacon Penrose, a member in good stand¬ 
ing. Calvin, his nephew. Rev. Sopher, a supporter of foreign mis¬ 
sions Harry Baxter, a sporting writer. Rafferty, a policeman. 
A Plain Clothes Man. Mrs. Penrose. Ruth, her daughter. 
Georgie, Rev. Sopher’s daughter. Katy, a maid. 

SYNOPSIS. 

Act I.—In which the Deacon finds himself in a tight corner. 
Dr. Sopher, who can coax money out of a wooden Indian. A thou¬ 
sand dollars for the new pipe organ. Cal arrives. A clean-up- 
clouter instead of a ministerial prospect. “Did I forget my necktie 
and button my collar in the back?” The Deacon spends a night 
out. “We won’t go home until morning.” 

Act II.—The raid on the gambling joint. “Why didn’t you 
jump when I told you.” On bail. “A thousand dollars to the Doc 
or you lose your job as Deacon; a thousand to the judge or six 
months.” A sporting chance. Ready for the game. A donation 
to Foreign Missions and a double barreled courtship. The elope¬ 
ment. The arrest. “Come on Cal, I’ll see you through.” 

Act III.—The big game. Tied in the Tenth. Cal goes to the 
box. A Pinch Hitter. “Over the scoreboard.” On the Deacon’s 
trail—the Horse pistol—pay the fine or go to jail. A hair line 
finish. “Hold on, Copper.” “Here’s your thousand and here’s 
your girl. Look happy and have your picture taken.” A new 
son-in-law. “Bother Boarding School.” The Deacon smiles. 

A Trial of Hearts 

By LINDSEY BARBEE. 

Price, 25 Cents 

College comedy in 4 acts; G males, 18 females. Time, 2*4 hours. 
Scenes: 3 interiors, 1 exterior. Characters: Dudley Van Antwerp, 
a wealthy college man. Philip, his best friend. Roger, Teddy, 
Jack and Jerry, fraternity men. Mrs. Van Antwerp, of great im¬ 
portance. Honor, Dudley’s wife. Fourteen lively sorority girls. A 
chaperone and a maid. 

SYNOPSIS. 

Act I.—Gretchen and Jerry play Romeo and Juliet. Ted pleads 
the cause of Kappa Psi. Jack argues for Delta Chi. Dudley intro¬ 
duces Honor to his mother. Virginia learns of Dudley’s marriage. 
“I want to go home—oh, I want to go home!” 

Act II.—The football enthusiasts bring news of Barbara. 
Gretchen and Jerry study Latin and argue fraternity. Honor finds 
it all a little strange. Dudley tells Virginia his love story. “Oh, 
Dudley, you hurt me!” “There’s nothing left for me but to go away!” 

Act III.—“I wonder if people ever get too busy to care!” 
Mrs. Van Antwerp opens fire and Honor stands her ground. “I 
mean to stay!” “I wish I had no heart—it aches so!” “Dear 
little girl, it is good-bye.” Honor hears Dudley declare his love 
for Virginia. “Oh, Dad-Dad—your little girl is coming home!” 

Act IV.—Gretchen and Jerry “grow up.” The Seniors toast 
the past, the present and the future. Mrs. Van Antwerp reproaches 
herself. “Here comes the bride.” The Kappa Psis and the Delta 
Chi holds reunions. “Honor, is it really you?” “If you want me, 
I am here.” 


T. S. DENISON & COMPANY, Publishers 

154 W. Randolph Street, CHICAGO 





DENISON'S ACTING PLAYS 

Price 15 Cents Each, Postpaid, Unless DifferentHPrice Is Given 


. M. F. 

Winning Widow, 2 acts, V/ 2 hrs. 

(25c) . 2 4 

Women Who Did, 1 hr... (25c) 17 

l ankee Detective, 3 acts, 2 hrs. 8 3 

FARCES, COMEDIETAS, Etc. 

All on a Summer’s Day, 40 min. 4 6 

April Fools, 30 min.’.. 3 

Assessor, The, 10 min. 3 2 

Baby Show at Pineville, 20 min. 19 
Billy’s Chorus Girl, 25 min... 2 3 

Billy’s Mishap, 20 min. 2 3 

Borrowed Luncheon, 20 min.. 5 
Borrowing Trouble, 20 min.... 3 5 
Case Against Casey 40 min...23 

Country Justice, 15 min. 8 

Cow that Kicked Chicago, 20 m. 3 2 

Divided Attentions, 35 min. 1 4 

Dude in a Cyclone, 20 min.... 4 2 

Family Strike, 20 min. 3 3 

First-Class Hotel, 20 min_4 

For Love and Honor, 20 min.. 2 1 
Fudge and a Burglar, 15 min.. 5 
Fun in Photo Gallery, 30 min.. 6 10 
Great Medical Dispensary, 30 ni. 6 
Great Pumpkin Case, 30 min.. 12 
Hans Yon Smash, 30 min.... 4 3 
I’m Not Mesilf at All, 25 min. 3 2 
Initiating a Granger, 25 min.. 8 
Irish Linen Peddler, 40 min... 3 3 
Is the Editor In? 20 min... 4 2 
Kansas Immigrants, 20 min... 5 1 
Men Not Wanted, 30 min.... 8 

Mike Donovan’s Courtship, 15 m. 1 3 

Mother Goose’s Goslings, 30 m. 7 9 
Mrs. Jenkins’ Brilliant Idea, 35m. 8 

Mrs. Stubbins’ Book Agent, 30 m. 3 2 
My Wife’s Relations, 1 hr.... 4 6 
Not a Man in the House, 40 m. 5 
Pair of Lunatics, 20 min..... 1 1 

Patsy O’Wang, 35 min. 4 3 

Pat, the Apothecary, 35 min.. 6 2 
Persecuted Dutchman, 30 min. 6 3 

Regular Fix, 35 min. 6 4 

Second Childhood, 15 min.... 2 2 

Shadows, 35 min. 2 2 

Sing a Song of Seniors, 30 min. 7 
Taking Father’s Place, 30 min. 5 3 

Taming a Tiger, 30 min. 3 

That Rascal Pat, 30 min. 3 2 

Those Red Envelopes, 25 min. 4 4 
Too Much of a Good Thing, 45 

min. 3 6 

Turn Ilim Out, 35 min. 3 2 

Two Aunts and a Photo, 20 mT 4 
Two Gentlemen in a Fix, 15 m. 2 
Two Ghosts in White, 20 min.. 8 

Two of a Kind, 40 min. 2 3 

Uncle Dick’s Mistake, 20 min.. 3 2 
Wanted a Correspondent, 45 m. 4 4 
Wanted a Hero, 20 min. 1 1 


M. F. 

Wide Enough for Two, 45 min. 5 2 

Wrong Baby 25 min. 8 

Yankee Peddler, 1 hr. 7 3 

VAUDEVILLE SKETCHES, MON- 
OLOGUES, ETHIOPIAN PLAYS; 

Ax’in’ Her Father, 25 min_2 3 

Booster Club of Blackville, 25 m.10 
Breakfast Food for Two, 20 m. 1 1 

Cold Finish, 15 min. 2 1 

Colored Honeymoon, 25 min... 2 2 
Coon Creek Courtship, 15 min. 1 1 

Coming Champion, 20 min.... 2 
Coontown Thirteen Club, 25 m. 14 

Counterfeit Bills, 20 min. 1 1 

Darktown Fire Brigade, 25 min. 10 
Doings of a Dude, 20 min.... 2 1 

Dutch Cocktail, 20 min. 2 

For Reform, 20 min. 4 

Fresh Timothy Hay, 20 min.. 2 1 
Glickman, the Glazier, 25 min. 1 1 

Good Mornin’ Judge, 35 min. . 9 2 

Her Hero, 20 min. 1 1 

Hey, Rube! 15 min. 1 

Home Run, 15 min. 1 1 

Jumbo Jum, 30 min. 4 3 

Little Red School House, 20 m. 4 

Love and Lather, 35 min. 3 2 

Marriage and After, 10 min.. 1 

Memphis Mose, 25 min. 5 1 

Mischievous Nigger, 25 min.. 4 2 

Mistaken Miss, 20 min. 1 1 

Mr. and Mrs. Fido, 20 min.... 1 1 

Oh, Doctor! 30 min. 6 2 

One Sweetheart for Two, 20 m. 2 
Oshkosh Next Week, 20 min.. 4 

Oyster Stew, 10 min. 2 

Pete Yansen’s Gurl’s Moder, 10m. 1 

Pickles for Two, 15 min. 2 

Pooh Bah of Peacetown, 35 min. 2 2 
Prof. Black’s Funnygraph, 15 m. 6 

Sham Doctor, 10 min. 4 2 

Si and I, 15 min. 1 

Special Sale, 15 min. 2 

Stage Struck Darky, 10 min.. 2 1 
Sunny Son of Italy, 15 min.. 1 

Time Table, 20 min. 1 1 

Tramp and the Actress, 20 min. 1 1 

Troubled by Ghosts, 10 min... 4 
Troubles of Rozinski, 15 min.. 1 
Two Jay Detectives, 15 min.. 3 
Umbrella Mender, 15 min.... 2 

Uncle Jeff, 25 min. 5 2 

What Happened to Hannah, 15m. 1 1 


A great number off 
Standard and Amateur Plays 
not found here are listed In 
Denison’s Catalogue 


T. S. DENISON & COMPANY, Publishers ,154 W. Randolph St., Chicago 


























































I N this Series 
are found 
books touching 
every feature 
in the enter¬ 
tainment field. 
Finely made, 
good paper, 
clear print and 
each book has 
an attractive I 
individual cov- j 
er design. 

A Partial Li:t 

DIALOGUES 

All Sorts of Dialogues. 

Selected, fine for older pupils. 
Catchy Comic Dialogues. 

Very clever; for young people. 
Children’s Comic Dialogues. 

From six to eleven years of age. 
Country School Dialogues. 

Brand new, original. 

Dialogues for District Schools. 

For country schools. 

Dialogues from Dickens. 

Thirteen selections. 

The Friday Afternoon Dialogues. 

Over 50,000 copies sold. 

From Tots to Teens. 

Dialogues and recitations. 
Humorous Homespun Dialogues. 

For older ones. 

Little People’s Plays. 

From 7 to 13 years of age. 

Lively Dialogues. 

For all ages; mostly humorous. 
Merry Little Dialogues. 

Thirty-eight original selections. 
When the Lessons are Over. 

Dialogues, drills, plays. 

Wide Awake Dialogues. 

Original successful. 

SPEAKERS, MONOLOGUES 

Choice Pieces for Little People. 

A child’s speaker. 

The Comic Entertainer. 

Recitations, monologues, dialogues. 
Dialect Readings. 

Irish, Dutch, N T egro, Scotch, etc. 
The Favorite Speaker. 

Choice prose and poetry. 

The Friday Afternoon Speaker. 

For pupils of all ages. 

Humorous Monologues. 

Particularly for ladies. 
Monologues for Young Folks. 
Clever, humorous, original. 


Dramatic and humorous. 
Scrap-Book Recitations. 

Choice collections, pathetic, hu¬ 
morous, descriptive, -prose, 
poetry. 15 Nos., per No. 25c 

DRILLS 

The Best Drill Book. 

Very popular drills and marches. 
The Favorite Book of Drills. 

Drills that sparkle with originality. 
Little Plays With Drills. 

For children from 6 to 11 years. 
The Surprise Drill Book. 

Fresh, novel, drills and marches. 

SPECIALTIES 

The Boys’ Entertainer. 

Monologues, dialogues, drills. 
Children’s Party Book. 

Invitations, decorations, games. 
The Days We Celebrate. 

Entertainments for all the holidays. 
Good Things for Christmas. 

Recitations, dialogues, drills. 
Good Things for Sunday Schools. 

Dialogues, exercises, recitations. 
Good Things for Thanksgiving. 
A gem of a book. 

Good Things for Washington 
and Lincoln Birthdays. 

Little Folks’ Budget. 

Easy pieces to speak, songs. 

One Hundred Entertainments. 

New parlor diversions, socials. 
Patriotic Celebrations. 

Great variety of material. 
Pictured Readings and Tableaux. 

Entirely original features. 
Pranks arid Pastimes. 

Parlor games for children. 
Private Theatricals. 

How to put on plays. 

Shadow Pictures, Pantomimes, 
Charades, and how to prepare. 
Tableaux and Scenic Readings. 

New and novel; for all ages. 
Twinkling Fingers and Sway¬ 
ing Figures. For little tots. 
Yuletide Entertainments. 

A choice Christmas collection. 

MINSTRELS, JOKES 

Black American Joker. 

Minstrels’ and end men’s gags. 
A Bundle of Burnt Cork Comedy. 

Monologues, stump speeches, etc. 
Laughland, via the Ha-Ha Route. 

A merry trip for fun tourists. 
Negro Minstrels. 

All about the business. 

The New Jolly Jester. 

Funny stories, jokes, gags, etc. 

Large Illustrated Catalogue Free 


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T.S. DENISON & COMPANY, Publishers, 154W. Randolph St., Chicago 














































